Professional Advice
by Loufoca
Summary: The portrait of Bowman Wright considered himself special. And in many aspects, he was special indeed.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Bowman Wright or any other character from the Quidditch world.**

**This story was originally written in French. I would like to thank Lady Lavender-Moon for her amazing beta-reading work on my translation.**

**Now let the match begin!**

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><p><strong>Professional Advice<strong>

The portrait of Bowman Wright considered himself special. And in many aspects, he was special indeed. First, he was the most well-hidden painting in all Hogwarts, which was saying something considering the number of hidden rooms in this huge castle. Secondly, he was the most quick-tempered bloke ever represented by a painter. He agreed only to speak with those adventurous enough to spend copious amounts of time searching for him, and even then, only if those adventurers were in Gryffindor. And most importantly, he owned many secrets.

It had become a real tradition on the Gryffindor Quidditch team: a freshly nominated captain should use his first days searching for the painting. The predecessors should not help them, in order to test the player's value. It was therefore not rare to see one of those new leaders wandering around after curfew, hoping to find the coveted hideout of the Bowman.

Once the painting of Bowman Wright was spotted, assuming one had enough diplomatic spirit, one could have access to all the secrets of this metal alchemist from the fourteenth century who had invented the Golden Snitch. Any good Quidditch player, having read "Quidditch through the ages" by Kennilworthy Whisp, knew that Bowman Wright created a golden ball with wings to replace the Golden Snidget, the little bird that up to that point was what players had to catch to end the game. This revolutionary invention mimicked perfectly the reactions of the animal, because Bowman knew the Snidget like no one else.

Hence, every new captain came to seek advice about every Snitch behaviour from the creator himself. It definitely gave an advantage to Gryffindor team, if their leader got along well with the painting.

This last goal was unfortunately complicated to fulfil. The old man, apart from being senile, was extremely misogynist and also a stickler for politeness and respect from students. However, some players managed to find favour in his eyes, thanks to their extraordinary talent or their cleverness. For example, when Bowman Wright met James Potter, he knew he could not prevent himself from giving James all information he wanted.

The night Bowman met James Potter, he was sleeping soundly, when he was woken by very late student's voices growing progressively louder in his direction:

"Peter, stop making that noise, you're gonna get us caught!"

"I can't take it, this secret passage is full of spider webs, Sirius! I _hate_ these creatures," Peter shuddered.

"Silence you guys, I hear a noise!"

Bowman noticed a little head with tousled hair coming from behind a tapestry and carefully scrutinized the room.

"There's no one here Remus" the boy said to someone behind him.

He dragged himself out of the passage and held the tapestry so that the others could follow. Soon, a bunch of four kids, probably first or second years, by the looks of them, were in the room. In all his days, Bowman had never seen children so young manage to find him. Maybe they were lost?

One of them, the smallest, came close to him and frowned, "Here it is, the famous Bowman Wright painting!"

The one with long dark hair whistled with admiration.

"I can't believe that it took us less than a week to find it! I thought that your father told you that it was the hardest room to find in Hogwarts, James!"

The aforementioned James raised his shoulders, "My dad wasn't as talented as us when it came to wandering around Hogwarts without being caught. Besides, he only learned of the existence of this painting when he was in seventh year, when he became captain."

In few words, Bowman had understood how this group of kids knew him: a loose-lipped captain! Surely that father was Lewis Prewett, the captain who almost sold the secret of the Bowman to the other teams one day he had too much Firewhiskey during a party for Gryffindor victory. But the little James was not fat like any member of this family. No, that wasn't it.

Watching him closer, Bowman started to think that he resembled Allicante Potter. Yes, he could only be a Potter! But what he did not know was how four inexperienced children could have conquered all the secret passages and all the concealment spells that protected him from the outer world.

"He's awake," said the fourth boy who hadn't spoken yet and looked sick.

Bowman thought that it was more decent to stop pretending to be asleep and greet the visitors, "May I ask what you kiddies are doing here so late? Bugger off!"

Of course, Bowman made all his greetings nasty, in order to dissuade people away from him and his secrets.

"He's not very polite, the old one!" said the long haired boy.

"Come on Sirius" laughed the sick-looking one, "this portrait is just used to being lonely. I'm sure he doesn't want to be bothered at this time of night."

"I told you that this wasn't a good idea James!" said the fat one.

James shook his head, "We are Gryffindors, we managed to find his hideout, now he has to listen."

The painting burst out in laughter, "I do not have to listen to anybody, kid! And I only give advice to Quidditch captains, not runts without education."

James didn't look impressed at all by his retort and replied, "In that case, you will be glad to know that I am the future captain of Gryffindor team!"

"A baby like you?" sniggered Bowman, "I hardly think so! You must not be older than a first year."

"We're second years" said Sirius, "and James is gonna be the greatest Quidditch player in the history of the school!"

Then again, the painting laughed and didn't bother to reply. The little fat one added, "James is the best Chaser of the team, he scored twenty times during the match against Slytherin and it was the first time he played at Hogwarts!"

Bowman thought that it might not be a bad idea to reconsider his opinion of the boy.

"Against Slytherin, you said? Is it still that vicious Lucius Malfoy who is captain of that rotten team?"

"No," replied Sirius who looked disgusted to hear this name, "Malfoy left the school last year. Walden Macnair replaced him and he is a damn good captain."

Bowman knew that. The last captain who had visited him, Robbie Brown, had showered him with details concerning the enemy team: how the captain Malfoy imposed himself with money and gifts from his family to the team; how the Beaters were incredibly dull; and how the Keeper Macnair managed on his own to keep a semblance of order amongst the players. Then the young Brown had finished his studies and no captain had visited him for two years.

"Who is the Gryffindor captain these days?" he asked.

"Abby Robins" replied James.

The painting sighed. A girl. Again!

"That Minerva McGonagall still tries to fulfil her quota of chicks in the team!" he groused, and the four boys burst out in laughter.

"Abby is already in her sixth year," James said, still clutching his sides, "So in two years, I'm gonna be captain!"

Bowman stared at the swaggering boy and replied, "You seem pretty confident, young boy!"

"Self confidence is the key to success, oldy," replied James, "be prepared, you're gonna have to deal with me for a long time."

When he saw the determined look of the child, Bowman thought to himself that the next few years were going to be tiring.

Indeed, they were. James Potter became captain, as he had predicted, and he visited him far too often for the old man's taste. Nevertheless, despite the inevitable arguments, Gryffindor team never lost a single game during three years.

And James Potter never told his Seeker how he knew that the Snitch would be slower in cold days and more likely to take tight bends during hot evenings. When the young man left Hogwarts, Bowman had no visits for several years. And to be honest, though he would never have admitted it even under torture, he missed him.

So, when a fifteen year old redhead showed his nose from behind the tapestry, Bowman almost felt like being polite. Almost.

"Who's there?" Bowman barked.

The boy dragged himself out of the passage and came to stand in front of him, an honest smile on his face:

"Charlie Weasley, Sir. I'm the new captain of Gryffindor and someone told me that you would have some advices for me."

"Someone? Who's this someone?"

"My uncle Bilius, Sir. Right before he died when he saw a Grim, Sir."

Bowman shook his head. Only Bilius Weasley could believe that Grims were real and die because of them.

"Well I hope that you're not as stupid as your uncle and that you're not going to die of fright when you see the Slytherin team!"

"No, Sir." replied Charlie with a quiet smile.

He liked the boy immediately, even more because he was a Seeker and he was training hard to be on top level. It was a quite entertaining period for Bowman Wright. Charlie Weasley, while not being as invasive as his predecessor, visited him often. Gryffindor, who hadn't won the Cup since James Potter was captain, relied on this prodigy of a captain to re-establish Gryffindor team's supremacy. And that miracle happened. Three years in a row.

The painting got used to the young Weasley's polite conversation. He always had a regal composure, even on eves of important games. And his questions were always precise and relevant, to such an extent that Bowman had to search the depths of his knowledges to know if indeed the Snitch could take a 43 degree bend when hygrometry was higher than 72 percent. And though sometimes the questions annoyed the old man, he never found again someone as pleasant as Charlie.

Their only argument happened at the end of the boy's seventh year. When Charlie crossed the tapestry with the bulky Cup of Quidditch that he had just won for the third time, he met an angry portrait:

"WEASLEY!" shouted Bowman.

The boy lost his smile and sighed, "You heard."

"Of course I heard, you liar! Do you think I never talk to other portraits in Hogwarts? Gossip is all about you these days! Prodigy Charlie Weasley, for whom all professional teams would damn themselves, is going to study dragons in Romania! DRAGONS!"

"Sorry..." was all the captain had to say.

"Sorry?" Bowman seethed, "You are an idiot, Charlie Weasley. I never want to see your face again! Bugger off."

It was the last time he talked to the young man. The bitterness was so deep that the next year, he welcomed Weasley's successor with insults. That one never came back.

One year after that however, despite rumours about Bowman's mental health, a newly promoted captain came across the passage and the tapestry.

"Oliver Wood," the boy said with no forewarning.

The boy looked so determined that the portrait didn't think immediately to send him away.

"New captain?"

"I learned it two weeks ago from McGonagall."

"Don't talk about her!"

"Alright, would you prefer that I explain you my plan to win back the Cup from those Slytherin bastards?"

The boy didn't wait for the old man's approval and conjured a white board where he started to draw highly complicated figures while commenting each game phase.

"… and that's why all our team can only perform if we have a Seeker who can predict the movements of the Snitch instead of stupidly following it. Therefore, I need you."

Partially dazed by the technical demonstration, Bowman foresaw that Oliver Wood would come to see him even more often than his predecessors and that he would always come prepared with this kind of speech. Nevertheless, the boy mentioned that his biggest dream was to become Keeper for Puddlemere United and his ambition pleased the old wizard.

The first year however, Gryffindor team had to admit defeat facing Slytherin domination. Oliver spent the last visit of the year insulting that 'son of a troll Flint' and his 'brainless hefty brawny of a team'.

After the holidays, Wood came back surprisingly enthusiastic:

"We have a new Seeker!"

"And you look thrilled because...?" laughed the old man.

"Wait, I'm talking about the most talented Seeker I have ever seen! He's just a first year and flies already better than Charl..."

"DON'T SAY HIS NAME."

Oliver covered his mouth with his hand.

"Sorry, I forgot."

Bowman had established a taboo between them: never ever should Wood talk about Charlie Weasley.

"But," Oliver continued, "this new Seeker has an amazing talent."

"A first year, you said? How is that even possible?"

"McGonagall allowed him to be part of the team. She wants to humiliate Slytherin as much as I do!"

Bowman felt his esteem for the Head of Gryffindor House rise a little bit. He still thought very little of her of course; he was still an old misogynist after all.

"His name is Harry Potter" added Oliver.

The portrait was happy. With a father like James Potter, no wonder the new Potter was so good.

"So Wood, you have no choice but winning the Cup this year!"

"There's no doubt" he said, rising his thumbs for victory. "I won't stop badgering him with your advice until he threatens me with his wand!"

But the end of the year was disappointing for the boy. Potter made a fool of himself and was in the infirmary. Something about a world rescue but Bowman could not understand the whole case, between Wood's recriminations and the fanatic whispers about the new hero from the other paintings.

The year after was not successful either. Quidditch was cancelled because some chamber with a big monster in it had been opened. That time, Wood almost went to search for the monster by himself, to kick its ass.

When Oliver started his last year in Hogwarts, he swore that no one would prevent him from holding the Cup in June. But when a bunch of Dementors stopped the game against Hufflepuff and almost killed his Seeker, Wood considered using an unforgivable spell on himself.

But that day in June 1994, while Bowman was thinking that he look definitely too old-fashioned in the ball gown he had been painted, he saw a young captain coming with the happiest look he had ever seen.

"We... we... won!"

He showed the Cup. Bowman remained speechless.

As a result, their last conversation was the most quiet they had ever had. After a while, Wood said that he had signed with Puddlemere United Reserve Team. To which Bowman replied:

"Only the Reserve Team?"

They went apart on good terms but the portrait felt infuriated when Wood told him that there wouldn't be Quidditch games next year, according to McGonagall.

"Blasted woman!"

He spent a year alone, wondering if Seeker Potter would be captain the next year. But nobody came to find him. He heard by word to painted mouth that McGonagall had nominated a girl as captain.

"Son of a b..."

The rest was so rude that even the walls of Hogwarts shivered. Bowman thus spent that year brooding about the worthlessness of women in magic society. He himself had never been married and was doing fine, thank you very much.

In the middle of next summer, Bowman was surprised to see Albus Dumbledore coming to visit him.

"Albus? Merlin's beard! It must be a century since I saw you, young daredevil!"

"How are you doing, Bowman? Still the best adviser of Gryffindor?"

"The only one, Albus! I heard that you became the Headmaster of this school, congratulations! Of course, if you had followed my advice, you would be now a respected member of the Montrose Magpies, which is more honourable..."

"You'll never let it go, will you?"

To be honest, Bowman always knew that Dumbledore would never be a professional player. He was too talented in too many fields! Therefore the portrait wasn't too angry with him. Well. Just a little.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he said ironically.

"I came to tell you that I appointed Harry Potter as captain of Gryffindor team."

"Well done," said the portrait enthusiastically, "you finally torpedoed that harpy McGonagall!"

"Come now, Bowman. Just because she managed to yell louder than you when she was captain of Gryffindor team after she found you hideout, despite the curses to keep out women, that does not make her a harpy!"

Bowman only replied with a bored "Humpf!"

"However," continued Albus, "I have to tell you that Harry will never come to see you."

"But... WHY?" shouted the painting.

"I think that it would not be wise for him to meet the great alchemist who worked with Nicolas Flamel on the Philosopher's Stone while a dark wizard is still able to enter his thoughts."

The rest of the conversation saw the stupidest arguments that Bowman could think of to change Dumbledore's mind. But, as he had learned when Albus was captain, no one could influence him.

So, the painting spent that year inventing the most offensive insults he could find about Dumbledore, Potter and that Volde-mo-something. He heard that Potter had won the Cup without his help and that made him even more furious not to be able to meet him.

It went even worse when he heard from a ghost that Dumbledore had been murdered and replaced by Severus Snape. A Slytherin! Bowman then understood that Albus was not telling lies when he had said that Volde-moron was a filthy boil to the Quidditch world. Well, he may not have used those words exactly.

That year, Bowman felt that the castle was sad. Not that he cared about enchanted stones but he missed Quidditch and a captain to advise. And that depressed him.

So one evening, when he felt a presence not far from him, he was curious and bored enough to lower his protection curses and let someone into his hideout.

He was surprised to find a group of Gryffindors lead by a redhead girl who was holding a shiny sword.

"What is this room, Ginny?" asked a tall boy who looked slightly vacuous.

"I think I know" said the girl when she had a look at the painting. "My brother Charlie told me about it."

Charlie Weasley's sister! Bowman didn't have time to protest, not even to open his mouth, because Ginny spoke again:

"Let's not linger! I'm sure Snape is not far from us and we have to keep Gryffindor's sword safe."

The group left as fast as they came. Baffled, Bowman raised his protection curses again. If he had correctly understood what just happened, the group lead by the young Weasley girl had stolen Gryffindor's sword and was hiding from the Headmaster. The painting sighed. From what he knew about Severus Snape - and his knowledge came directly from his arch enemy James Potter - the Slytherin was not the kind to let students escape. They didn't stand a chance!

Indeed, he learned from other portraits that the attempt had failed. Of course Bowman knew that any undertaking of a woman would fail eventually, but that didn't make him happier. As time passes, he came to hope that Volde-whore would be defeated so that Quidditch games would start again and he would not secretly admire the courage of a young girl who tried to go against established order.

So, when the whole castle shook from the clamour of the big battle taking place at its doors and when Bowman himself heard the Dark Wizard command Harry Potter to surrender, he crossed his oil-painted fingers and wished fervently that Volde-motherfucker would choke to death on a Bludger.

And his wish came true. Well, less Bludger and more Avada Kedavra, but with the same result. Life went back to normal. Bowman could go back to advising Gryffindor captains and hating women and Slytherins.

Twenty-two years after that, when he was fulminating about the young James Potter number two because he visited him every Merlin-made day, he heard a noise in the secret passage.

"JAMES POTTER JUNIOR! I WARN YOU: IT IS OUT OF THE QUESTION TO MOVE ME INTO GRYFFINDOR COMMON ROOM SO THAT YOU COULD HARASS ME 24/7!"

But someone else crossed the tapestry. Holy demons of Hogwarts, a Slytherin!

"I can see that you love my brother," the boy said with a sniggering.

"Bugger off, filthy snake!"

"So this is how Gryffindor team wins every game? Because of you? My name is Albus Potter by the way."

"I told you to bugger off!"

"My brother is gonna be furious when he learn that I have discovered his little secret" whispered the little Slytherin Potter.

"Go away! Go away! Go away!"

"Yes, in a moment. But before that, I have to leave a message so James would understand that he will not win the Quidditch Cup this year. Not against me."

He pulled a paintbrush and a tin of paint out of his pockets and came closer to Bowman with a mischievous face, not listening to the portrait's protests.

After that day, Bowman didn't wear his old-fashioned ball gown anymore. In its place, he wore the Slytherin uniform.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading. Reviews would be greatly appreciated. <strong>

_**Loufoca**_


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